


Rest and Relaxation

by LizzyLue



Category: Half-Life
Genre: American Sign Language, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Character, Digital Art, Domestic Fluff, Drug Addiction, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Touch-Starved, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyLue/pseuds/LizzyLue
Summary: Gordon aspires to get some TLC after saving the world, it doesn’t quite go as planned, but what does anymore? He’s just glad that Barney is here.Takes place after the supposed events of Episode 3/Half-Life 3. Additional warnings and commentary in the notes.Update: Added art.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 17
Kudos: 239





	Rest and Relaxation

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave Kudos and Comments. I want to know what you think of my writing.
> 
> {Rant Ahead} Document originally titled White Forest. Half-Life fandom has some new life all of a sudden? And Freehoun? Why? Don't question it, time to take advantage and write fic.
> 
> If you're seeing me edit this fic every five minutes it's because I can't stop going back to correct errors/grammar.
> 
> I may or may not continue this depending on feedback. This chapter may be changed or deleted at any time, but I wanted to post it because I have novels worth of fanfic I’ve never posted and I want other people to get a chance to read my work. The language is probably too repetitive but I’m not making money off this. I’m not a professional and I know I shouldn’t perseverate over it so much. I haven’t finished watching Half-Life Alyx streams, so I don’t know how it ends yet or if it's relevant, but this is inspired by the imagery and environmental storytelling from the game. I won’t ever get VR, most likely, it makes me too motion sick. 
> 
> 7000 words? Why is this so long? I feel like it shouldn't be this long... help it's probably over written or something.
> 
> Warnings: Adult swearing. A lot of swearing. Canon-typical violence (all past and only reminisced about). People eating animal meat. Vomiting, descriptions of mild withdrawal symptoms, injury, etc. All are non-graphic, this is mostly fluff after all. I hope my portrayal of a deaf character is respectful but it might be subpar, I’ve done some research but I am not deaf myself. Gordon isn’t so profoundly deaf that he hears nothing at all, but without hearing aids he can’t distinguish between different spoken words.

They were finally, finally back in White Forest.

All of the portals were closed, the Borealis was destroyed, Alyx had gotten her revenge— for now. They had untangled themselves from the larger multiverse; Gordon never wanted to set foot on an alien world again. If he had to see one more incomprehensible cosmic horror he was going to turn inside out and no clip out of existence.

The click and hiss of the transport’s door opening caught his attention, it slid aside parallel to the hull, instead of swinging outward. He lifted his head to see Alyx standing outside, offering him her hand. He gratefully accepted it, and forced a smile. He stumbled out. Gordon's legs were stiff and painful. He slid on the leaf litter that made up the forest floor, and caught himself with an arm on the strange, hard edged geometry of the vehicle's hood. They had stolen this Combine all-terrain vehicle for the better part of the return trip. The helicopter they’d had at the start of their journey now lay in a thousand pieces across some barren tundra. The air was biting cold outside of the hermetically sealed cabin. Gordon thought it must be autumn now. He was passingly grateful that they hadn't been fighting the worst of this war during a Russian winter.

Alyx had done most of the driving, she’d brought them home while Gordon had been a useless lump in an unobtanium shell. Despite being slumped against the passenger side window, Gordon hadn't been able to sleep. Some eight hours on the road without action and he was already feeling every injury he’d sustained in the past months. It was too long to go without a firefight, without something to trigger the morphine injection. Alyx didn't have more than a few scrapes and bruises. Gordon had used himself as her human shield, at the worst of times. His bulky armor and larger body meant he could withstand a lot more damage than she could. Now, he was sweating buckets and his stomach felt like it was trying to tear itself apart.

As he and Alyx approached the base, he vaguely registered people shouting and calling his name, rebels excited about their return. Alyx guided him by the arm, but her grip felt distant. He was caught in a haze of pain and exhaustion.

He wanted out of the HEV suit.

He was sure he'd been reduced to nothing but jelly inside this thing. He was more broken bones than man. When it came off he didn’t think he was going to be able to walk. This suit seemed like magic in a fight, but he knew it wasn't. What were the chances he just up and died when he took it off?

“You look like shit Gordon," Barney said by way of greeting. Gordon looked up and did a double take at the sight of his friend's face. He had warm eyes and a kind smile, despite his words. When Gordon had left for the Borealis, he thought he might never see Barney again, and he just stared. Barney didn’t look much better than Gordon felt. The grey hair that had started at his temples had crept further into his messy bangs. His dark stubble was on the verge of becoming more than stubble. He had a gaunt, haunted look to him. His eyes were red and swollen; there were dark circles beneath them. The last he saw of Barney, he’d been leaving on the refugee train out of City 17. Gordon realized belatedly, that he'd been led into the laboratory. The forest floor was gone from under his boots, replaced by solid concrete.

Despite his exhaustion, Gordon made an effort to lift his hands to sign.

_“Withdrawal.”_

It was mostly, anyway. But really, he just hated the world and he wanted to sleep for another twenty years.

“Oh," Barney said, as though of all their thousands of problems, he hadn't considered addiction to come up.

“On second thought, maybe designing the suit to be so reliant on morphine wasn’t such a good idea," Dr. Kleiner spoke up.

Gordon glared at him.

He wanted a bed. And food that wasn't flavorless hardtack.

And a fucking beach vacation. Drinks with little umbrellas in them, ice cream, palm trees, sunshine, surf, bamboo reclining chairs, fucking throw pillows, the whole nine yards. He used to have the kind of salary that could afford a beach vacation. Why hadn't he ever used that paid leave? He was kicking himself for being such a workaholic now. He'd settle for just a shower right now if he was being honest. Fuck.

Gordon tried to take another step, and fell hard against Barney's side, catching himself with a hand on the other man's shoulder.

_"I'm gonna pass out,"_ Gordon tried to sign. It was one handed and so sloppy it was unreadable, but the others seemed to get the gist.

"Don't do that Dr. Freeman," Kleiner said.

"Easy Gordon. How about we get you to a bed?" Barney proposed.

_That would be so amazing right now_ , Gordon thought.

"You might want to go straight to medical," Kleiner sounded worried.

Fuck. Gordon knew he was right, but he did not want to sit in a damn hospital being poked and prodded at. He wanted privacy, and real comfort. If it was that big of a deal, they could send the medic to him.

Gordon shook his head in the negative.

Barney brought his other arm around to steady him, catching Gordon in an impromptu but completely necessary embrace. Gordon wrapped his arms around him and took full advantage, leaning heavily, feeling boneless and relieved that he didn’t have to stand on his own anymore. Barney was solid and warm, Gordon didn’t ever want him to let him go. Why was he still wearing that damn Combine uniform? The harsh black fabric was scratchy against Gordon's cheek. It smelled like gasoline and smoke. Didn't Barney have any other clothes? Had he really been wearing that thing since City 17?

The Advisors were terrifying things. They’d been swarming over the Borealis by the time they had arrived. It had taken some trial and error, but Gordon and Alyx had perfected a technique for killing them. Well... it had been mostly Alyx's technique. The trick was to stay out of range of their damned telekinetic ability, because once they caught you that was it, end of line. Their bodies were soft flesh— not heavily armored like the majority of the foes they faced. They were vulnerable, and as it turned out— explosively messy when hit with a grenade. Like grubs, they had no exoskeleton or fibrous tissue, and their thin skins contained a whole lot of goo. The blue sludge had heavily stained the HEV suit. Gordon hoped it wasn’t dangerous. It would be just his luck to spread an alien neurotoxin all over his friends clothes at a time like this. Fortunately, Barney didn’t complain about having alien slime smeared all over his front.

Barney was shorter, but didn't seem to break a sweat as he supported Gordon. The HEV suit weighed at least fifty extra pounds on its own. This man was a modern miracle, he looked like he was about ready to pick Gordon up and carry him off over his shoulder. Gordon was half hoping that he would.

Instead, Gordon was ushered out of the lab and down the hallway.

"You can have my room," Barney said.

"Has anyone seen Lamarr?" Gordon heard Dr. Kleiner say; his voice carried from the room they had just left.

"For the last time, no one has seen your damn parasite." Magnusson snapped at him.

They walked around a corner, and turned down a narrow hall. It was lit sporadically by overhead fluorescent tube lights that buzzed and flickered, on their last legs. They passed through a door at the end that, in the dark, seemed to blend in with the rest of the wall. Barney sat him down on the edge of a mattress, and Gordon looked around the room.

The bed was unmade, sheets and comforter bunched up toward the foot. An analogue alarm clock sat on a low table next to it. There was an open wardrobe, sporting a few sad hangers but no clothes. A stack of magazines sat on a series of shelves, tabloid-esque imagery crowding the covers. There were comic books too, displaying costumed heroes Gordon didn't recognize. He couldn’t read the bold graphic lettering either, it was all in Cyrillic. A few books as well, science fiction. Gordon caught Jules Verne’s name, and George Orwell. He thought 1984 was a morbid choice to be honest, a little too on the nose. Empty bottles of alcohol inhabited the surface next to them— beer, vodka, whisky, wine. There was a corkscrew, corks and bottle caps were left scattered about. Cigarettes too, piled up in an ashtray. On the nearby desk lay a discarded combine mask; the dark lenses were a stark contrast against the ghostly pale face, staring vacantly up at the ceiling. There were a number of Breen's propaganda posters as well. The posters were right side down, and the visible backs were covered in scribbling and diagrams. It looked like troop movements, resource allocation, and battle strategy, all color coded. Surrounding the plans were scattered pens and markers. A dry erase board on wheels, likely dragged in from the lab, dominated the space. It was covered in similar writings and symbols. Green circles for resistance forces, blue blobs for Combine. Lots of arrows and ‘X’s’ drawn over things. There was something else, it had its own stand in a dark corner. Gordon thought it was a plant, at first glance. It was sitting in a terracotta pot. It had broad fleshy petals alight with a gold bioluminescent glow. Definitely something from Xen.

Gordon found he was sharing the bed with a small armory of rifles and shotguns. A few had been partially disassembled for cleaning, and had yet to be put back together.

"Uh... sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company,” When Gordon didn’t respond to his comment, Barney continued. “Alright. Shower's through there, it's even got soap, the height of luxury," he attempted to joke as he pointed toward the bathroom door, open ajar. His smile didn't quite meet his eyes this time. “And I've got a real bed. Pays to be acting General. Pretty nice, right? The last place I lived I slept on— you know what, never mind.

"I'm going to go see if the quartermaster will give up a clean change of clothes for ya," Barney told him. He turned to leave, and Gordon's gloved hand shot out to grab him by the arm, the superhuman strength the suit afforded him forced Barney to stop short.

Barney flinched, and gave him a look of surprise. Gordon immediately let go, worried his grip might have hurt him.

_"I don't think so,"_ Gordon signed. _"You need rest just as much as I do."_

"No, Gordon, I have work to do. Kleiner needs help in the lab, there are raids to plan, patrols to organize—"

_"When was the last time you slept?"_

“Um... you know... a while ago. Things have been busy. We’re in the middle of a war.”

_“You’re useless without sleep asshole.”_

"Ok. Ok. There’s no need for name calling. You got me. Fine. Just... let me get those clothes. You get started on that shower."

Gordon nodded.

_"Find some for yourself too."_

"Sure thing Gordon." With that, Barney fled the room like it was on fire.

What was wrong? He hoped he hadn’t done something to upset him. Gordon supposed it could be anything. So much had happened in such a short time, victories and losses insurmountable. He had been at war for twenty years, was it all finally catching up with him? Barney had been so damn cheerful when they’d reunited in City 17. Thinking back on it, that was a little strange, to be such a sunny personality with death waiting around every corner. At the time, Gordon hadn't questioned it, he had just been happy to see him. And... confused as fuck about the whole world ending thing.

He stopped to take his hearing aids out and place them on the bedside table. He had no idea how he’d be able to get new ones in post-apocalyptia if they were damaged by moisture or god forbid, dropped in a toilet. Super powered hazmat suits that could help him to lift a car: yes. Hearing aids: no. The wonders of waking up in a totalitarian future Hellscape.

It had been a long while since he’d removed them, he realized, too long. The sudden quiet was so comforting as to be overwhelming. All the background noises that were taking up too much space in his head: the hum of machinery beneath the floor, footstep and movement through thin walls, the distant nebulous sounds of people talking, all of it melted away. He’d spent the last... well... since he’d gone into work that day twenty years ago. He’d spent all his time since then, fighting for his life against aliens and indoctrinated cyborg soldiers. He’d had to be on full alert. There had been no chance to let his guard down like this.

Gordon eventually got up, headed toward the shower, and immediately tripped over a loose shotgun shell that had been lying on the rug. His legs flew out from under him and he landed on his chest, only just managing to slow his fall with his outstretched arms. The wind was knocked out of him so hard he could barely wheeze.

Fuck. Yep, that was him. Gordon Freeman, doctor, hero— killed by a stationary bullet on his friend’s dirty bedroom floor. Literally the last thing he needed. He struggled up onto his hands and knees. He took deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. The room spun around him, and his stomach lurched with nausea. Getting this shower thing taken care of was going to be a lot harder than he thought. He wretched, coughing up bile. At least he had no food in his belly to throw up. Gordon gripped the side of the bed to lift himself back into a standing position.

He carefully hobbled toward the bathroom. The door felt shockingly light when he pushed it aside, it looked to be made out of a repurposed piece of plywood. There wasn’t even a doorknob, just a ‘U’ shaped handle.

He fumbled for the release to the plates that encased his torso. He found the switches in the divot below his neck on either side, and pressed them down. Gordon gasped as the lattice of needles detached themselves from his spine, violently and all at once. The metal shell fell to the linoleum floor. He wormed his way out of the lower half of the suit and kicked it aside. Finally free, Gordon rubbed at his stinging lower back, his hands came away bloody. This damn vampiric hunk of metal was a fucking torture device. He peeled off his thermal underwear, which felt disturbingly like removing a second skin.

Gordon placed his wide rimmed glasses on the cracked porcelain edge of the sink, before stepping into the tub. With some effort he turned the dial, it was rusted and it stuck. Icy water shot out of the shower head, hitting him in the face, but Gordon didn’t care. He’d endure anything to feel clean again. To his shock, after a minute or so the water began to warm. Thank the powers that be. Or more specifically, whichever godly genius had found a way to install and power a water heater. If he could find out who they were, he would thank them personally.

He reached for the bar of soap. The days of shampoo and conditioner seemed to be behind them. It was cold pressed, a misshapen pale lump, and clearly homemade. Someone on base must have been making it in batches.

As Gordon washed he started to worry. In the morning he would have to get back to work. He hadn't had much time to process Eli’s death. He knew it must be hitting everyone else so much harder, he'd missed out on twenty years of the man's life. Barney and Alyx had been through Hell and back at Eli's side.

He’d left Alyx behind in the lab. He hoped she was alright. It already felt like a lifetime, but Gordon knew that in real time, her dad had died a little over a week ago. She hadn't had time to mourn while they were fighting for their lives.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock so loud it caused the ceramic tub under his feet to vibrate. Gordon stuck his head out from behind the curtain to glare at Barney— who was standing in the doorway, grinning, and waving at him. That fucker.

_“I said, I’m back!”_ Barney signed. Then _“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”_

He’d probably been calling Gordon’s name a while, before he realized that no duh, he’d taken out his hearing aids. Gordon could see well enough and Barney was plenty understandable, it was a small bathroom. His glasses were meant for distance.

Barney placed the new clean clothes, neatly folded, on the sink.

_“I’ll just leave these here.”_

Gordon really wished Barney would come into the shower with him. It... would just be more efficient that way, than to shower separately. It would save water. Was that normal? To want to share a shower with your friend? Probably not. He wasn’t sure how to ask Barney about it, he wasn’t sure if he should. Barney had changed so much. Even though it felt to Gordon like a matter of weeks since their time working together in Black Mesa, it had been twenty years for Barney. Maybe Gordon shouldn’t be worrying about silly old workplace crushes. Barney must have forgotten about it long ago, if he’d ever noticed Gordon pining after him at all. He was so distracted by these thoughts that he almost didn’t catch Barney’s next signs.

_“Did you vomit on my floor?”_

_Great job Gordon. Very sexy of you._ He privately reprimanded himself. Whatever.

_“Just get out so I can change,"_ and because he was worried that came off as too rude he added _"please."_

With a salute, Barney retreated and closed the door behind him. Gordon finished rinsing off the soap. He turned the water off and grabbed one of the towels off the rack to dry himself.

Barney had brought him a pair of grey sweatpants and a worn, over-sized T-shirt. He felt the fabric between his fingers, they were soft cotton, loose and breathable. He went hunting through the cabinetry above the sink for a spare toothbrush. He found one that at least smelled clean, but he disinfected it with isopropyl first just to be safe. He was glad toothpaste was still considered important enough to stockpile. He hadn't expected having the opportunity to brush his teeth to be such a huge relief.

_“Your turn,”_ Gordon told him as he exited the bathroom, now fully dressed.

Barney heaved a sigh, as if for some reason he was dreading the shower.

Gordon collapsed onto Barney’s bed, smacking his face against the butt of a rifle. Ouch.

Grumbling in discontent, Gordon shoved Barney’s guns over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He registered the flurry of movement as they clattered against each other in a cascade of metal and plastic. That had probably been dangerous or something, bad gun safety. What if one of those had been loaded? What if it had gone off? He didn’t have the energy to be too concerned. He spread out over the whole bed on his belly like a starfish. This was his bed now.

He heard Barney shout something, but he couldn't distinguish what. He lifted his head in time to see him sign.

_“Be careful with those! A good weapon isn’t easy to come by these days.”_

Really? You could have fooled him, with how many Barney seemed to own.

_'Too bad, they were hogging the bed.’_ Was what Gordon wanted to say, but that was too complex for his brain or hands to manage. Instead he just threw up a middle finger.

Barney shouted again, in what sounded like an exclamation of indignation of some kind. Probably cursing. Gordon buried his face in the pillow and tuned him out.

He dozed off for a while. Eventually he was roused when yellow light spilled into the dark bedroom as the bathroom door was opened. With one half lidded eye, Gordon watched Barney turn to flick that overhead light back off. The desk lamp had been left on in the corner of the main room, the bulb was dim and weak, but just enough to see by. Gordon stayed still, pretending to be asleep. Barney had finally changed clothes as well, and was wearing something similar to Gordon. He stepped carefully over the floor, deliberately slow— not wanting to wake him. Gordon frowned as he moved passed him and instead of going to lay down, he reached for the handle of the bedroom door.

Fuck. Barney was trying to escape. He had to think fast.

Gordon used the last of his strength to toss his pillow at Barney’s head. It was a direct hit, and bounced off the man's face before flopping down onto the floor. Gordon raised himself up onto one elbows to scowl at him. Barney at least had the grace to look guilty. Gordon patted the side of the mattress next to him, insistent.

What was wrong with him? Was he really so abhorrent that Barney couldn't sleep next to him? It didn’t have to be gay if he wasn’t into that anymore. Gordon just wanted to feel safe, to be near someone he trusted.

Barney stooped to retrieve the pillow and reached for the edge of the blanket, the mattress dipped under his weight.

Fucking finally he could relax. Gordon grabbed Barney around the chest and pulled him closer, all thoughts of keeping a respectable distance flying out the window. He was soft and he smelled nice, like pine and detergent.

Barney started running his fingers through Gordon’s hair, that was heaven. Gordon melted when Barney began to rub his back too. His head was resting below Barney’s chin, and his arms felt like lead. Overcome with a desire to return the affection, he pressed a kiss against Barney’s jaw, and then another, and then more.

Barney’s face turned bright red. He was wide eyed, looking shell shocked. Gordon couldn't bring himself to worry that the kisses had offended him. If Barney thought he was gross, then so be it. He yawned, and squirmed against him, trying to get more comfortable. Barney hadn’t stopped with the back rub and it was quickly eating away at Gordon’s ability to stay awake. He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

He next woke to his pillow screaming and writhing beneath him. He blinked awake. Barney was struggling under Gordon’s weight. He rolled off of his companion, worried the pressure was what was causing his distress. When Barney only started to thrash around more, he reached out and threaded their fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze. Barney’s eyes flew open, he looked confused as he took in the room around him.

He said a long string of words aloud. Gordon could make out scarce few by reading his lips, he did catch what looked like 'sorry', and 'dream'.

Gordon tilted his head in question. There were no windows, but he glazed over at the hands of the alarm clock, they showed it was still early morning.

_"What about?"_

Barney rolled over to face him, so that Gordon could see his hands. Somehow, he managed to look even more exhausted than before they’d gotten into bed.

_“It’s... it’s nothing. We all get nightmares. You’re probably still tired. I won’t trouble you with it.”_

_“Tell me about it?”_

_“Do I have to?”_

_“No, I only thought it would make you feel better.”_

_“Ok....”_ Barney still looked apprehensive. _“I dreamed that I was back with the CP, working undercover. I was discovered but... but instead of just being killed.... I was forced to go through the elite upgrades.”_

Barney stopped to glance down at his hands.

_“Go on.”_

Barney bit his bottom lip, nervous.

_“I was stripped and strapped down to an operating table. Their machines cut into me without anesthetic. They tore out parts of me and replaced them with cybernetics. It was many long hours before I passed out from pain or blood loss. When I woke up... I walked around and I could see with my own eyes... but I couldn’t control my limbs. It was like someone else was behind the wheel. I could only watch as I gunned down all of my friends. Eli... Alyx... Kleiner... you.”_

Gordon knew that fear was very real, it was no fantasy. He’d never seen anything more terrifying than what the Combine had done to shape human beings into tools. The first time he’d seen a Stalker wandering the Citadel, aimless like a drone. The first time he’d removed the mask from an elite he’d slain.... No, he didn’t want to think about it. Eyes gouged out and replaced with metal. Limbs— hands and facial features carved away to remove any identity that person might have had, replaced with incongruous mechanical parts not remotely humanoid. The pulsing, blinking LED lights of implants drilled into skulls and spines, burrowing into the flesh, bone, and mind like parasitic worms. They stripped away free will and transformed people into slaves. He wished he could scrub those images from his memory. While working undercover, Barney had been one mistake away from the most horrible fate Gordon could imagine.

_“Do you have dreams like that often?”_

_“Yeah,”_ Barney confirmed. Gordon frowned, it was no wonder he didn’t want to sleep.

Gordon pulled him into a hug. Barney clung to him like a drowning man. It was a few minutes before he let Gordon have his arms back. He released him to say:

_“I missed you while you were gone, every day for twenty years.”_

_“Yeah?”_ Gordon’s brow furrowed, he hadn’t realized he had made that kind of impression.

_“Gordon.”_ Gordon’s heart stopped when Barney used his name sign. He hadn’t thought he would have remembered it. _“When I finally made it to White Forest, Eli was dead and you and Alyx were gone— left on some suicide mission. I thought I’d lost all of you again, just after I’d found you.”_

Barney had begun crying. Gordon cupped his face in his palms, running a thumb over his cheek and catching a stray tear. He leaned into the touch and covered one of Gordon’s hands with his own, then ran his thumb over the back of it in slow circles. Gordon found himself getting lost in his handsome face. The tired shadows, the rough stubble against his palm, the soft curve of his jaw, his big expressive eyes that managed to look so tortured yet so beautiful— all perfect. They stayed like that a moment before Barney leaned in further to kiss him. Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise as he pressed their lips together. Barney abruptly pulled away.

_“Sorry.”_ He was looking up at him with those soulful eyes, apologetic. He gripped at his own arms, clawing at his skin and leaving red marks.

Gordon took Barney’s hands in his own, preventing him from hurting himself. Barney ripped his hands away, and Gordon felt a little hurt.

_“What do you mean sorry?”_ Gordon was taken aback.

_“You... probably don’t want an old man— “_

_“Stop.”_ Gordon gave him a serious look and shut him up with another kiss, this one quick and chaste. _“I’m two years older than you.”_

_“Only... only technically.”_

_“Technically counts.”_

_“Gordon... and I know this is going to seem crazy, but you look like you haven’t aged a day. It’s got to be impossible but— you really look like the messiah from the stories,”_ Barney said, and Gordon didn’t have to wonder whose stories. He was talking about the Vortigaunts. _“Immortal and invincible. Appearing like magic out of the aether to save us all. I just thought, there’s a lot of weird shit. Crazy space alien multi-dimensional bullshit. Maybe there’s... time travel too. You’ve got to admit it’s not that much of a stretch when you consider what kind of crazy we’ve already been through.”_

He wasn’t that far off, about the time travel thing, not about being immortal and invincible. He definitely did not feel invincible right now. Gordon wasn’t really sure how to explain the truth to him. He didn’t think he had the words or the patience.

_“Not quite, but... it’s close enough. I’ll explain.”_ Sometime, later. He was far too tired right now.

_“I knew it...."_ Barney sighed. _"Gordon, I’m going gray, and I’ve got wrinkles. I’m fat. Life expectancy isn’t what it used to be, statistically I’m already dead. And... and you're gorgeous. A Gorgeous magical immortal man.”_

Gordon just shook his head, somewhere between fond and admonishing, as he kissed him again. Barney kissed back, slower this time. Gordon had never been very good at... being honest about his feelings.

_“It’s been twenty years I thought... you would have moved on. I didn’t think— I wasn’t sure you even liked me that much....”_ Gordon had always felt like the odd one out at Black Mesa. All of his peers, save for Barney, were far older than him. Even his closest colleagues struggled to understand him. He was too blunt, and every conversation was rife with misunderstanding.

_“You didn’t think..? This is the guy, the random security guard you happened to share a shift with— who became fluent in ASL just so he could hold a conversation with you. You’re an idiot Gordon.”_

Gordon kissed him on the nose, which made Barney snort in laughter. Gordon was caught in another crushing hug. He tapped his shoulder, in a request to be released, he wanted to say something. Barney shook his head, unwilling to let him go this time; he only held on tighter. He could feel him speak, his breath ghosting over his collarbone and his voice vibrating in his chest. Gordon had no way of knowing what it was he was trying to communicate, or if he even wanted Gordon to understand the words at all. He couldn’t see his face, it was buried against his neck. He could feel his shoulders shaking though, and tears damp against his skin. Gordon returned the embrace, he rubbed his arms in a gesture that he hoped was comforting. Eventually Barney did pull away, he whipped at his eyes with the back of his wrist.

_“Sorry. It’s been so long since....”_

_“Since what?”_

_“Since anyone just... held me. ”_

Gordon wondered how long.

_“I should get us some water,”_ he said, instead of asking. That was always the first thing Gordon did when he woke in the middle of the night. He was usually dehydrated. It wasn’t an excuse to flee his overwhelming emotions instead of confronting his feelings, definitely not. Kisses and hugs were hard work, that was all.

Gordon's throat did feel like sandpaper. He groaned when he tried to get up. The ache in his muscles had set in while he was asleep, and it was bone deep. A wave of nausea overtook him, and he’d developed a pounding headache. He collapsed back down onto the mattress, defeated.

_“Woah there Doc, how about... how about I get that water?”_

Gordon nodded. Barney got up and left the room. He returned some minutes later with a tray topped with headcrab jerky, and two glasses of water. To his surprise, ice cubes were suspended in the liquid. That was something Gordon hadn’t seen in a long time. He sat up in bed, worried that if he lay down he might not be able to find the strength to rise again.

_“You wanna try and eat something sweetheart?”_ He asked. Gordon ducked his head in embarrassment at the affectionate phrasing. His stomach did a backflip at the thought of food, and he shook his head in the negative. Barney noticed that he was shaking. He’d broken out in a sweat again that soaked through his clean shirt.

_“You got a fever?”_ Barney pressed a hand to Gordon’s forehead.

_“Water,”_ Gordon signed.

Barney handed him the glass. It was blessedly cool in his hands. Gordon took a careful sip. Immediately his nausea flared up. He waited a moment for it to subside before he took another smaller sip. Barney sat back down at the edge of the bed, balancing the tray in his lap.

_“You should eat something,”_ Gordon urged him. Barney looked like he’d eaten about as often as he’d slept.

_“Naw, I’m not hungry. And I can’t stand this stuff.”_

_“You don’t have withdrawal as an excuse.”_

_“Fine, I’ll eat some if you do.”_

Fuck, he’d been out maneuvered. Damned combat strategist was too smart for him.

_“Fine.”_

Gordon took a piece of jerky, it was pale and leathery, he nibbled on the end. He thought it tasted like some combination of shrimp and pork rind. A bit too salty, a bit too musky. It wasn't terrible though, he’d definitely had worse in recent memory.

Gordon watched Barney expectantly. Barney made a face as he relented and took two pieces for himself. However, Instead of eating them both, he tossed one across the room. It sailed through the air.

The thing in the corner released vine-like tendrils that snatched the piece of meat at the height of its arc. The vines withdrew back behind the petals, and the thing closed up like a lily, hiding its prize from sight. It all happened in less than a second, almost faster than he could blink.

Gordon reminded himself to give that side of the room a wide berth in the future.

_"Your house plant is carnivorous?"_ He asked.

_"Not sure she's a plant. I found her in the woods. Pretty cool though, right?"_

Gordon just stared at him in disbelief.

_"What? She needs to eat too."_

He tore off a large chunk with his teeth, chewing and swallowing quickly, as if trying to get it over with as fast as possible.

"This is awful," he said aloud. Gordon was able to interpret the simpler movements of his lips pretty clearly this time.

_"It's not that bad."_

_"Speak for yourself."_

Gordon shook his head.

_"Arms hurt. Been talking too much already."_

When they had finished most of the jerky, Barney set the tray aside. He sat back against the headboard and with hands on Gordon's hips, pulled him to sit in the open ‘V’ of his legs. Gordon watched him with curiosity, allowing himself to be manhandled. Barney began massaging his shoulders, digging his thumbs in between his shoulder blades. Gordon moaned, leaning back against Barney. He felt absolutely wrecked, and he wasn’t ashamed.

_“You’re amazing. Don’t ever stop.”_

Barney's hands eased the knots from the muscles along either side of Gordon's spine, moving down the length of his back. He seized up when Barney’s fingers dug into the injection sites at the base of his spine.

“Holy shit!” Barney exclaimed, when he realized. _“Your back is mince meat Gordon!”_

Gordon nodded, gritting his teeth in pain.

_“I'm so sorry,”_ Barney apologized.

_“S’ok, forgot, I should have warned you.”_

Barney shuffled out from behind Gordon. He pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed, kicking the guns on the floor aside. He unzipped it and extracted a glowing green syringe.

_“No needles!”_

_"Alright, alright,"_ Barney conceded, he rose to grab a wooden bowl off of the shelf. The syringe was cracked and the contents dripped into the bowl, then he tossed the broken container into the waste bin.

Gordon eyed the green sludge sloshing around at the bottom of the bowl with distaste as Barney brought it over to him. He set it down on the mattress.

_“Goo is good for you. That's what Uriah says,"_ Barney told him.

_“After this, if I have to see the innards of one more over-sized invertebrate in my life— ”_

_“Yeah well, that's pretty much unavoidable in this day and age. Turn around."_

Gordon huffed but complied. Barney sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted his shirt and applied the sticky fluid to the wounds like a poultice.

It did feel better. A lot better. His skin crawled as the bruised and broken tissue knitted itself back together at an accelerated rate.

Gordon let Barney push him back down into a lying position.

_"Back to sleep with you, you need rest to heal up.”_

Barney got back up to wash his hands and the bowl in the sink. He was only gone a moment before there was a blood curdling scream and a crash. The room shook with the force of a heavy impact.

Gordon sprung to his feet and ran toward the noise, he threw open the bathroom door. Oh wow... they had really left a mess in here. Pieces of the HEV suit and Combine armor were scattered about. Water had dripped all over the linoleum. Gordon wasn't sure how he'd managed to get alien guts on the walls, but it added something extra to the layer of fine mildew. Gordon saw that the vent in which the small fan should have been seated, was completely destroyed. The plastic cover had been thrown off, the screws and fan blades landed in the far corner behind the door, leaving a damning headcrab sized hole in the ceiling.

Barney was on the floor, trying and failing to fight off the headcrab that had latched onto his face. He flailed wildly in a panic, legs striking the tub.

Gordon grabbed the creature around the middle and pulled, she detached with little force. She squirmed for a moment as Gordon held her up, then went limp, seeming to calm. Strange. He looked at her belly to see that she didn’t have a beak.

Gordon sighed in relief. He’d thought for a moment there that Barney was a goner. He sat down next to him on the floor and deposited Lamarr into his own lap.

Barney was gasping for breath, doubled over on his hands and knees. He looked furious, but thankfully unharmed. He glared when he realized Gordon was laughing at him.

“This isn’t funny! I could have DIED!”

_“I think we found L-A-M-A-R-R,”_ he signed, finger spelling her name, and still grinning.  
Barney pushed himself up off the floor and sat back on his knees.

_"No shit. Maybe it objected to us eating its brethren. It's trying to get revenge. Hey... we could just shoot the damn thing, let Dr. Kleiner believe that it uh... ran away.”_

Gordon shook his head. He scratched Lamarr behind... what might have been her ears if she had any? She curled up above his knees not unlike a strange cat and began munching on Gordon's pant leg, tugging at the loose fabric with her mandibles. Her small scythe-like forelimbs jabbed at him ineffectually.

_“Oh I see how it is, the little menace behaves for you.”_

Gordon took Barney by the wrist and led him back to the bed, carrying Lamarr in his opposite arm. He fell back against the pillow and smiled up at him. Lamarr wormed out of his grip and crawled beneath the covers beside him, nuzzling against his side.

_“Hey, I am not sleeping next to that beast.”_

_"Do you want to go and wake up Isaac instead? I'm sure he'd take her off our hands."_

Barney grimaced.

_"Hell no."_

Barney laid back and pouted, arms crossed, he scowled up at the ceiling.

He eventually fell back asleep, despite his protests. Gordon followed not soon after.

Gordon woke to find the bulk of Lamarr obscuring his vision. She was napping on his sternum, shockingly still. Her chest gently rose and fell with each of her small breaths. He wondered for a moment if headcrabs could snore. This time the clock read late morning.

He should really be getting up. The Combine remained on earth, even if they were cut off from their homeworld. There was a lot of fighting still to be done, the resistance had to take back the planet. Gordon had to touch base with Alyx and return his colleague's missing pet. He sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side. Lamarr slid off of his chest and fell onto the blankets. She landed on her back, and flailed around like an upturned turtle. She looked none too happy about the rude awakening. He picked her up and shoved her under one arm like a football, to keep her out of the way while he put his hearing aids back in.

Barney was drooling against his pillow, splayed out on his belly. He looked more relaxed than he'd ever seen him. It was very unflattering, and adorable.

Gordon tried to move carefully, as not to wake him. However, the bed creaked as Gordon stood.

“Mornin darlin," Barney mumbled, sounding sleep drunk. He loved being able to communicate with Barney through sign alone, it was a lot less stressful. Spoken words were more of a struggle to understand, it was still his second language after all. However, he loved the sound of Barney’s southern drawl too.

_“Good morning.”_ Signing was a little awkward with a struggling headcrab under one arm.

Gordon leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead.

"I'll catch up with you in... five more minutes," Barney muttered.

Gordon wasn't complaining. He was glad Barney was taking his demands for him to sleep seriously now. He stopped to grab his glasses on his way out.

Dr. Magnusson greeted him as he entered.

"This is a laboratory Dr. Freeman. Where are your shoes? Have you no respect for basic safety?" Gordon looked down to find that yes indeed, he didn’t have shoes. He hadn’t really noticed. After saving the world, he supposed he’d forgotten something like wearing shoes indoors could be important to anyone— or even relevant. Dr. Magnusson pointed at the signage on the wall that looked to have been scavenged from a high school chemistry classroom. It was printed in Cyrillic, but Gordon recognized well the symbols for eye protection and lab attire universal in western academia. Amended at the bottom in marker were the words, 'and closed toed shoes required!' “Really now, as a man of science you should know better.”

Gordon merely raised his eyebrows and pointed to Uriah. Although the alien did wear a lab coat, that was all he was wearing. Uriah gave him a smile with too many sharp teeth and raised one clawed hand to wave back in greeting.

"Don't be ridiculous! Uriah is a Vortigaunt, we can't expect him to wear shoes.”

Gordon thought that was hypocritical, and he crossed his arms in contempt. He didn't bother to mention that none of them had eye protection either, and he’d never seen Barney or Alyx wearing a lab coat. In fact, this entire laboratory was quite substandard. It was a disaster; the product of two elderly neurotic scientists having the run of the place. Nothing was labeled or stored. Tools were left out. Open chemical containers sat unattended. Half finished prototypes and unfilled notes took up every surface, leaving no space to work. If their bosses at Black Besa had seen this, they would have taken one look and fired all of them.

What was he supposed to do about it anyway? Barney hadn’t brought him shoes, and Gordon couldn’t materialize them out of thin air.

“Be gone at once, and don’t come back without regulation footwear—“

"You found Lamarr!" The overjoyed cry of Dr. Kleiner interrupted Magnusson mid-rant. Gordon was all but tackled as Kleiner knocked into his side in his excitement. He was making furious grabbing motions for Lamarr, who was still secured under Gordon’s arm, and was now shrieking once more at the sudden disturbance. Gordon shoved the thing against Kleiner’s chest, eager to be rid of the loud noise. "Thank you Dr. Freeman! You are a true hero," he gushed as he took her from him, hugging her close. There were tears in his eyes. Lamarr quieted and chittered at Kleiner, a much more tolerable sound.

"Oh for fucks sake.” The exasperation in Dr. Magnusson’s tone made Gordon believe that his lack of shoes wasn’t the real reason he’d been trying to chase Gordon out of the lab.

"Hey... I'm the one who actually found her."

Gordon turned at the sound of Barney's voice in time to see him enter the lab.

_"Yeah, with your face."_

Barney narrowed his eyes at him and placed his hands on his hips.

“So? Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?”

“Then I thank you as well Mr. Calhoun,” Kleiner said in the most sincere voice Gordon had ever heard from him. “I was so lost without you. Where have you been?” Dr. Kleiner began talking to his pet, as if he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room with him. He wandered off toward his desk, cooing at the monster cradled in his arms like a doting parent.

Gordon kissed Barney on the cheek. _"I can't blame her. I like the taste of your face too."_

Barney shoved Gordon away from him.

"That was a piss poor attempt at flirting Freeman. You're Disgusting!”

Gordon laughed, and Barney’s affronted expression broke when he couldn’t help but join in. It was contagious.

“If you hooligans aren’t here to contribute to the progress of science, then get out of my lab, both of you!” Magnusson shouted. He stormed over to usher them out, and they both backed up on auto-pilot at the sight of his enraged expression. The grey double doors were slammed in their faces.

_"Hooligans?"_ Gordon raised a conspiratorial eyebrow at Barney. They were now stuck out in the hall.

“Someone isn’t a morning person," he replied. "Are you in the mood for breakfast?”

_“With you, always.”_

“Gordon, you don’t have shoes!” Barney exclaimed. "You can't go to Messhall without shoes."

Gordon looked down to see that Barney was wearing his CP boots again. They had seen better days, to put it mildly. Both of them were in need of new shoes. In fact, Gordon planned to find at least one additional outfit for Barney's empty wardrobe.

_“Whose fault is that?”_

“Oops."


End file.
